


I Don't Blame You

by pringlesmcgee (kenmarcadeblues)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (but like it's basically just a mention bc it just happens), Alternate universe - flat mates, Angst, Blood, Gang Violence, Harry's drunk in the flashback but that's it for alcohol so I'm not gonna tag it?, M/M, One Shot, Sadness, Songfic, Tears, overly dramatic and weird??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-26 15:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9907997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenmarcadeblues/pseuds/pringlesmcgee
Summary: You're not supposed to kiss your flat mate who's drunk and straight. You shouldn't tell him you love him, either. (Especially when you know it's pointless because he won't remember come daylight hours.)And at the very least, you're not supposed to make a habit out of the two.Unfortunately, he did.





	

**Author's Note:**

> based on the lyrics of [I Don't Blame You](https://youtu.be/V0Nrw0FWt5M) by Phantogram
> 
> written 2015 - 2017
> 
> (just goes to show how bad I can be at finishing things, yikes)
> 
> image via [weheartit](http://weheartit.com/entry/178365615)

 

  

"Don't hang up, please..." is the first thing Harry hears when he answers Louis' call. Louis' fifth call to him that day, and the only one he has bothered to answer.

It's unbelievable to think it could be so painful to tap a screen. His muscles hiss at him, wondering why they're moving when the pavement beneath is slicking up in scarlet. Harry presses the hand that doesn't have a cellphone in it to the hole in his side, but it doesn't do much for the blood flow, and only hurts him more.

Harry sets his phone down, nestling it right where the ground meets the wall of whatever building he's slumped up against, and lays himself down too, head next to the microphone.

"Listen, to me, Harry..." Louis is saying. Harry doesn't quite hear what comes next.

Barely listening.

It's not that he's blocking the boy out or ignoring him on purpose, not at all; it's just that Harry's heart is pounding, working overtime to circulate what blood is left inside him.

Harry is only comprehending bits and pieces, fragments of Louis.

"That was fucked up..."

"...shouldn't have had...and I don't..."

"...not like it was..."

"...so, so sorry, mate."

And then, Harry manages to capture a whole chunk at once. "I - I hope that we can move on from this, just...I wanna be friends..." he catches Louis murmuring quietly.

"Shhh, Lou," Harry finally manages. His voice is hoarse from calling for help earlier and hardly resembles its usual state, and a red flag instantly flies before Louis' eyes.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Hush, be quiet for a second."

So Louis holds his breath and listens to Harry's own coming through the other end. It is short and quick and beaten, and Louis doesn't like it. If he was concerned before (which he was), then he's doubly worried now.

"I - I went back, Lou. I'm home," Harry states deflatedly. He looks around at his surroundings. There's nothing particular about it, really. Just a cold, grimy, and dank alleyway on the wrong side of town. What goes on in a spot like this, Harry knows all too well.

Louis blinks hard. "Why in the hell would you do that?" He briefly tries to find an answer to his own question, but comes up empty handed.

"You told me to," is all that Harry can think to say. _Nothing but the truth._

Words ricochet back and forth between the two boys' heads. One remembers their bitterness in his mouth. The other remembers how harshly they burned him.

_'You know what? Fuck you. Fuck you, Harry. Just, get the hell out, now! Take your ass back to the rat's nest you crawled out from, and never come back!'_

Louis gulps dryly. How could he have forgotten already? Maybe it wasn't that he forgot, he just hadn't wanted to remember. "Oh, no - I didn't - I never meant that, I promise I could never mean it. God, I'm r-really sorry..." he apologizes, nearing a whisper. "Fuck, just come home home already, would ya? You need to get out of there for your safety, before something happens-"

"Too late for that."

"W-what?" Harry feels Louis' face drop as it hits the ground.

A short pause.

All of a sudden, "Why am I like that? So goddamn stubborn! Could've just turned around, ran away, but I didn't..." Harry mutters darkly. "Why did I have to try to face them?"

"What the fuck, Harry?" Louis says, equally concerned as he is confused.

"It's taking everything I have to keep talking to you. But I'm glad you called again, otherwise I wouldn't go peacefully."

"What the actual fuck are you talking about?!" Louis screams, exasperated. He feels sick to his stomach. "Say it, just spit it out!" Images fill his mind, and none of them are pleasant.

He's crossing his heart that it's nothing, that his friend is only just being awfully cryptic and strange. He's only overreacting, isn't he?

_Isn't he?_

No such luck.

Harry's words rush out quickly, viciously chasing one another into Louis' ear. "I told you the stories - my old gang, they found me somehow and...as expected, they'd never forgiven me...so they shot me, and I'm bleeding out. I'm going to die here." And he's cringing, not out of pain, nor embarrassment at how he sounds, but as he anticipates Louis' inevitable reaction.

The silence could cut diamonds. Sharp, sharp nothingness. Cutting into Harry's flesh nearly as deep as the bullet did.

But soon enough, Louis shatters it, unapologetically so. "You're serious?" he asks, putting effort into keeping his voice steady. He knows Harry wouldn't joke about something so serious, but he needs it to be a joke. So badly.

"Yeah, Lou. I am," the curly haired lad confirms in a melancholic tone. At this, Louis sucks in a deep breath. He doesn't want to cry, now. _I need to be strong for Harry_ , he thinks. He allows his hands to do the shaking instead. 

Harry blinks his emerald eyes. Things are starting to blur into one another. His soft-angled face is pale, devoid of pink as blood continues to seep out of his weakened body. Louis is still quiet. "It's taking everything I have just to talk to you..."

Louis' hands rake through his feathery hair. "Oh my God. I have to - where are you? Fuck, hold on, I'm -"

"Don't, Louis -"

"-calling the police and the paramedics-"

"Louis!" Harry attempted to yell, but only managed an exclamation.

"What?"

"Don't do anything. Nothing at all, okay? It's too late, I'm dying, I -"

"No, no! Lemme just, trust me, it'll be -"

"Listen! There's not much left of me, Lou. There's so much blood. I feel cold and numb. I'm too far gone, I know it," the boy in the alleyway relays, tone calm and measured. 

Louis shakes his head furiously, not caring that Harry can't see the motion. "No, no, no! I'm gonna, gonna-"

"Please, don't. Just, stay on this call with me, yeah?" pleads Harry.

And how could Louis say no? Refusing a dying person - a friend, whom he loves to death (literally now) - such a simplistic request; he couldn't possibly. So he doesn't.

"Oh," the boy's voice cracks, "okay. If that's really what you want."

"Thank you, Lou. It is, it's the only thing that I want, that I need," Harry breathes.

The glossy eyed boy breaks down, and Harry just lets him. Tears run wild and salty, because being strong can go to hell. "Haz," squeaks Louis. He's on the ground now, just like Harry. Harry being on dirty concrete and Louis on beige carpet.

"What?"

"You're dy - dying."

"I know," Harry assures regretfully. He quickly wears a frown when it sounds like Louis is struggling to breathe. "Shh, shh, you're going to be fine. Stop crying, alright? I have something to tell you."

Louis would comment about the fact that he knows he'll be okay, and that it's Harry they both should be concerned with, actually, but selfishly, he's too curious now. Instead, he sniffles, "Yeah?" and does his best to subdue the waterworks and focus on inhaling calmly. He'd do anything for Harry, absolutely anything.

Well, almost anything. When Harry told him to stop loving him, Louis refused. He knew he couldn't, he wouldn't even try.

Because Louis loves Harry like how a flower can't help but gaze up to the sky, completely and utterly in awe of the sun.

And Harry knows this, has known ever since two nights ago, when it'd all come out into the open.

The thing was, after a while, whenever Harry would awake with a hangover, Louis would ask him, first thing in the morning: 'Remember what I said last night?'

Harry had always, always answered 'no', and asked what he meant by that. Louis would refuse to say anything more.

Louis began to hope and pray, against everything, that on one fateful morning, Harry would smile a 'yes', no further explanation needed. That a day would come when Harry would put together the pieces; when he understood and accepted Louis' feelings, and they'd kiss, both sober for once, and everything would be just right.

One night, there wasn't any alcohol in Harry's body, but Louis kissed him anyway. 

And Harry understood and remembered that night, but alas, not like how Louis had wished for. He remembered as anger and disgust boiled in his belly. He remembered as two close friends stood face to face and screamed at each other. He remembered as he stormed out of their house and roomed with an old pal in the rusty, memory torn area where his past lives on without him.

And Harry hasn't forgotten for a second since - but then again, it was only two nights ago.

"I've been thinking a lot about, things, just -everything, and...something connected this morning." Harry swears he felt the exact second it clicked, too. A tectonic plate settling into where it belongs after hundreds of years of misplacement. A monumental movement. "I've realized, I don't want you to remember me as your friend..." Louis bursts into tears as an instant response, he just can't help it.

But Harry's not finished. "I need you to remember me as someone who loved you, because I do. I love you."

Louis' breath freezes in his throat. He's in a state of shock now. _How_ , he thinks, _how in the whole wide world is it that this is happening right now?_ His lip quivers, "Are you - are you serious? You mean it? Because I swear to God, now is not the time to fuck-"

Harry cuts him off, "I love you, I love you, I love you, Louis William Tomlinson."

Louis hesitates, speechless. There are no words flowing from his brain to his mouth, not a single one. "I - I..."

"You don't have to say anything, really. Just know that, okay? I love you, and I was in love with you well before today, but...it's hard for me, you know? I'm not used to it, the whole feeling things and shit, yeah?" Harry laughs half heartedly. "You understand that? I love you, like, a lot."

"Oh...I - I get it, yeah," Louis replies, still stunned from the other boy's profuse usage of the l-word. "I love you too, Harry," he says, "but you already knew that."

"Right, I did. But hearing you say it now makes me so happy, the happiest in the world. Today's a happy day." The day that he offered his heart to someone he loves, and they took it in open arms. Even with his numbness, Harry feels something he can't quite describe.

"No," sobs Louis, "it's not happy. I mean, okay, fine; it is, in some ways. One way." _He loves me_ , thinks Louis. _He loves me and I love him. Finally. Everything I ever wanted._  
"But no. Don't call it that. Don't you dare." _He's staring death in the face_ , thinks Louis. _I'll never see him again. My love will be gone soon. No more Harry._

"But, Lou -"

"You're fucking dying! What don't you get about that? You're not going to live, and you just told me you love me. This is too fucking ironic, I just can't do this. Whatever God is up there's a sick fucking bastard!" the tear-stained boy shouts, glaring up at the ceiling above him with heavy disdain. "You know why? Because I'll never get to kiss you, or hold you in my arms, or feel your voice on my ear, or gaze into your eyes and see them twinkle for me. I won't. Not that any of it would happen, I didn't know for sure it would. But there was a possibility, there was potential, and that was enough. Now there's not. And that's all I wanted, a possibility of you and I." After a moment, he adds, "You know, I used all my 11:11's on you." Louis is trembling violently. He closes his aching eyes, then inhales sharply, "A happy day should never have to hurt so bad like this. No - actually, nothing should. Nothing should hurt like I do now."

Although Harry just gave away his heart, he can still feel it being torn apart. "I know," he whispers brokenly, "I - I know but I don't know what more to say. I'm sorry."

"Don't fucking apologize! It's not your fault...in fact, it's all my fault! If I could learn to keep my big mouth shut, if I had any self control, this wouldn't be happening. You'd be okay..."

"Don't say that. I don't think I'd be any different in your shoes, so stop blaming yourself. You're just human, Lou. Promise." Harry's voice was a wisp of smoke off cooling embers, any and all strength extinguished from it. "And things just happen, you know? By chance. The world works like that - everyday we take our chances."

How could someone stand to waste their last precious breaths like this? _Why are you trying to heal my guilt when you're the one with a gunshot wound? Your life was cut short because of me. You're crazy. I'm crazy. This is fucking crazy._ Louis can't understand it. He can't even speak those thoughts, it's just too much entirely. "Oh, Harry...Harry..."

Louis' fist meets the floor violently, and he so wishes that any pain he inflicted on himself could be an amount taken from Harry. He so wishes it could've been himself that took that bullet. But no, it had already been decided in this universe. Harry was the one to go.

Harry feels the numbness give way to lightness. The muscles in his eyelids, long fatigued, finally fail, and his eyes take in the last glimpse of the world he'll ever see, a neglected alleyway, though he's too willfully distracted to process that. "I don't blame you, love. I don't blame you, I don't blame you." Harry speaks with finality, trying to enunciate as clearly as he can despite his shallow breaths because he wants, needs Louis to hear him. It's the only thing he can do. 

And Louis presses his ear up to the speaker of his phone until it hurts; and he cringes because he just knows - knows that the next breath Harry takes will barely be enough to get him any oxygen. _He's going. He's really going._ Louis chews his lip. 

If only Harry had stayed in bed today, stayed inside and contemplated things in safety. If only he'd answered Louis' earlier calls, and they'd had this talk before Harry chose to venture out into dangerous territory.

Louis bawls loudly against the silence on the other end of the call.

He can't bring himself to hang up.


End file.
